


Certainty

by Kemmasandi



Series: Coming Clean [2]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: First Times, Other, Sticky Sex, because you can never have enough, oh look - Kem wrote more robot porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemmasandi/pseuds/Kemmasandi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Orion is eager to learn, and makes it really slagging hard for Megatronus to control himself, dammit!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Certainty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eiseedoesit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiseedoesit/gifts).



> **Title:** Certainty  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Universe:** TF:Prime  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Megatronus/Orion Pax  
>  **Warnings:** sticky smut, pwp. Non-compliant with my headcanon, don’t take it too seriously.
> 
> Whoops, I went and wrote silly self-indulgent first-time Megatronus/Orion Pax porn. Better sweep it under the rug before anyone sees…
> 
> [I know ‘seals’ are a pretty universal part of sticky-style TF porn, but they don’t exist in my headcanon. The answer to the question of why I wrote this as I have, therefore, is ‘just because I felt like it.’ *sighs happily* Also because they are a part of the AU-verse this fic fits into, so yeah.]

***

“You’re certain?” 

The deep rumble of the gladiator’s voice sunk into his deepest components, making him shiver. Orion retracted his array panel, and the cold polar air over his valve made him shudder, his internal mechanisms giving a clench that made the lubricant inside him rush out and track down his thighs. Megatronus’ optics followed it intently, almost hungrily. Orion wanted him so much, wanted to feel him move within him, claim him, mark him.

“I am sure,” he breathed, tilting his hips up to better present himself. “I can think of no more worthy mech to give myself to. Show me what to do, Megatronus.”

Anticipation knotted in his spark, so tight he felt as though he was going to implode. When Megatronus finally reached out, tracing the back of a careful claw around the soft metalmesh folds around his entrance, he barely held back a startled jerk of his hips. He moaned, dentae gritting as Megatronus’ touch stroked trails of lightning along his array. 

“Very well,” Megatronus growled. His digit found the lip of Orion’s valve and pushed in, slowly, carefully. “Hold still, Orion. This time, I will do the work.”

Orion nodded, pressing his lips together and shuttering his optics. The width of the gladiator’s finger was nothing like his own; it stretched him far wider, a steady invasion into his body and he couldn’t help but welcome it, arching his backstruts and letting his helm fall back with a breathless moan. “Yes,” he gasped, “yeeeess—”

Then, all of a sudden, Megatronus’ claw fetched up against something inside him and a bolt of pain shot down the insides of his thighs. Automatically he jerked back, but Megatronus’ grip around his hip held him firm.

“That was your seal,” the gladiator informed him, voice and field rough with restrained arousal. “Were we on the field, were you my opponent, I would hold you down and force myself into you, breaking your seal with my spike, and the crowd would roar— for the excitement of watching one mech kill another is common, but to see a virgin broken before their optics is a much rarer treat.”

Orion shivered, imagining what it would feel like: to be pinned underneath Megatronus’ broad frame, to feel the optics of thousands watch, imagining the cheers and base roars as Megatronus’ spike tore through his seals. It would hurt, he knew that much, but the desire curling through his frame blazed as it refocused, centering between his legs, a much more physical sort of pleasure than he’d ever encountered before.

“What if I told you that was what I wanted,” he said, shocked at the husky undertone suddenly in his voice. “I am so much smaller than you. You could pin me down, force yourself into me, take my seal with your spike. I would enjoy that, I think.”

Megatronus lurched forward, and for a moment Orion thought he was going to do exactly that. But he brought himself up short above Orion, thick limbs tense. The click of his interface panel retracting was loud in the darkened room, echoing with promise.

“If I did that,” he replied, “though I dearly want to – I would hurt you, I would damage you.” He frowned, then dragged Orion closer to him, pressing the lower portion of his hips against Orion’s valve, so that his spike—thick unadorned purple, curving proudly upwards from its housing—laid against Orion’s abdominal plating. He set the edge of his palm against the tip, marking its length against Orion’s body. “When I take you, I will be this far inside you. If I do so without care, I could tear your valve apart entirely.”

Orion nodded slowly, wriggling his hips against Megatronus’ and sighing as warm pleasure washed through the outer components of his valve. “’Care’—what would that entail?” He was so wet, so hot; it felt as though his valve was begging for something to fill it. Fingers, spike, glossa – anything. The warm pressure of Megatronus’ plating could only stimulate so much of him.

Megatronus grinned down at him. “Time, patience. Preparation.” He sat back, and suddenly his digits were at Orion’s valve again, gently stroking down the heated metal, knuckles bending, kneading at the sensor-rich valve rim. 

Orion cried out as his anterior node cluster fired, his intakes working in a mirror of the way his valve clenched down against the sensation. “Oh, Primus,” he gasped, rocking up into Megatronus’ touch. “Need you, want you so much. How can I take you?”

“I have a few ideas.” Megatronus withdrew his fingers, turning his hand this way and that as he inspected the lubricants that glistened on his digits. “For now, I intend to make you overload with my fingers and glossa, without penetration. Then I will use my fingers to stretch you as much as I can, which the overload ought to help with. Finally, I will—carefully—penetrate you with my spike, and break your seals. Do you want that?”

Orion nodded, his optics glowing fever-bright. “I want that,” he said, and drew his legs up, hooking both over Megatronus’ thighs. 

“Good.”

Megatronus hooked one arm underneath his hips and lifted him, rearranging Orion’s legs with the other until one slung over his elbow and the other pede was braced against his broad shoulder. Orion’s valve was totally bared to him, his backstruts curved so much his shoulders barely touched the floor beneath them. He could feel his own lubricants running down his pelvic plating, an odd sloshing sensation deep within him as the extra liquid collected behind his seals. That thought made his vents stutter—Megatronus was going to push his spike inside him, and it would be that deep, and deeper, adding his own fluids to the mix in him, and they would swap cables, if Megatronus would open his spark and merge with him, they would be combined in all the ways that mattered and maybe, just maybe, said a sudden thought, he’d kindle. 

For a sudden, insane moment, that was exactly what he wanted. 

“I want you to overload inside me,” he said, deliberately clenching his valve so that Megatronus would see his outer components move.

The gladiator gave him a sidelong look, raising one optic ridge. “You try my resolve in the best possible ways,” he said dryly, before he lowered his helm and the slick, darting pressure of his glossa dipped into Orion.

It was nothing like his fingers: smooth and supple rather than hard and rough, yielding, coaxing sensation from his neural net instead of dragging it fully charged from his sensor nodes. Orion groaned and squirmed in Megatronus’ grip, trying to grind himself down onto that fleeting presence, trying to get it to touch more of him. Broad, wet strokes over his anterior node cluster made him arch and beg; Megatronus’ dentae, gently grazing over his valve rim, made his vocalizer crackle in static pleasure.

Then Megatronus worked two fingers in between the metalmesh folds, pressing them apart; he set his lips around the rim of Orion’s valve, and _sucked._

The knot in Orion’s spark unravelled all at once. Warm liquid energy rushed straight to his valve, where it spun up into a second sun and exploded outwards in waves of pleasure so intense it ached. His lines crackled with charge, and as his overload gathered, each wave pushed Orion successively higher until with a discordant wail, his higher processor toppled offline.

He came back to Megatronus’ fingers inside him: two of them, stretching his entrance, careful not to delve too far. 

Orion sighed with bliss as a third finger worked its way into him. Before, he knew enough to recognise that three would have been uncomfortable, perhaps on the verge of painful. Now, greased with the release of a processor-numbing overload, his calipers slid open easily.

“Welcome back,” Megatronus rumbled. Orion onlined his optics to find the gladiator watching him with open desire on his face, his mouth grinning and his optics narrowed intently. His field thrashed, bearing down on Optimus’ with all the dominant thrill becoming of a master gladiator. 

Orion willingly gave way, submitted underneath the onslaught of offered pleasure.

Lubricant glistened on Megatronus’ lips. The gladiator leaned down, kissing him gently, his huge chassis, thrumming with eager charge. Orion opened his mouth, let his glossa tangle with Megatronus’, tasting with a thrill the thick sweet aftertaste of his own lubricants.

“In me,” he said, drawing back just enough to separate their mouths. “Now.”

Megatronus smiled down at him. “As you command.”

He drew back, and his fingers pulled out of Orion with a wet sucking noise. Orion propped himself up on his forearms and watched, entranced, as Megatronus wrapped a servo around his spike, giving it a slow pump before he shifted forward and the hot, blunt head pressed against Orion’s entrance, the outer folds parting welcomingly around it. 

Megatronus rocked his hips forward, lubricant smoothing the way, Orion’s valve calipers sliding open around him. 

The pressure was intense, the feeling of Megatronus slipping into him exquisite. Metal scraped over metal, the sheer size of the gladiator’s spike stretching him open to his limit. Orion tipped his helm back, biting back a soft cry. It tailed off into a desperate moan as Megatronus stopped—“Keep going! _Please!_ ”

The gladiator loomed over him, his huge frame completely covering Orion. One hand collected Orion’s wrists, pulling them up above his helm and pinning them to the floor there. The other braced against the floor by his side, close enough that Orion could feel the stressed hum as his cannon burned off charge before it could damage the delicate systems in the weapon. 

He moved without warning, and the quick sharp snap of the seal breaking inside Orion drowned underneath the sensation of being suddenly, completely, utterly _filled_. Megatronus was _massive_ inside him, long and thick, pulsing heat straight into his neural net. Electricity crackled through him as his array systems connected to Megatronus’, charge nodes tripped against trigger nodes, current flowing between their joined bodies. Orion’s backstruts arched, his helm hit the floor with a loud thunk; base coding drove him to wrap his legs around Megatronus’ hips and never let go. His mouth moved, his vocaliser formed a binary keen, but he couldn’t hear it over the violent pulse of his own spark, the raw, basic need flooding his response protocols.

The shape of Megatronus above him shifted, his optics—for the moment civilian-blue—watching Orion with a thoughtful note in his field. He let go of Orion’s wrists long enough to press a finger to Orion’s lips. Orion swallowed a moan as the movement dragged the ridges on the gladiator’s spike over what felt like every sensor cluster in his valve.

“I want you to do one thing for me,” he rumbled, his servo sweeping down Orion’s side, trailing fine sparks of static electricity. “Listen, Orion.”

Orion managed a nod, his optics shuttering tight against the rush of sensation bombarding his tactile core. “I’m listening.”

“Good.” Megatronus dipped low, and Orion felt him smile, pressing a kiss to the top of his helm. “Clench your valve. See what that does.”

Orion obeyed wordlessly. He was stretched so wide that his calipers struggled to open any further, his valve array blinking an orange warning— _exceeded capacity!_ —at him from the middle of his HUD. He managed to get a sort of shallow ripple going, repeating it with a moan of pleasure when it made Megatronus shudder and groan, grinding closer into him.

The gladiator managed a dry chuckle, roughly hauling Orion’s legs up higher around his waist. “Good,” he repeated, and Orion groaned in ecstasy as he pulled out, leaving him woefully empty. 

He stopped, the head of his spike just inside Orion, and pushed back inside in one smooth, earth-shattering stroke. 

Orion overloaded around him, circuits seizing up in the grip of a massive charge. His awareness drew back to Megatronus’ hands on his thighs, spike in his valve, his vocaliser erupting in a screamed oath, ending with Megatronus’ name. It didn’t knock him offline, but it was a close-run thing, switching off everything in his situational and sensory protocols but the ecstatic rippling of his valve as Megatronus gently, patiently fragged him into the floor. He floated in a half-dream state as the charge washed through him, fluctuating but never quite abating, conscious of his aft scraping back and forth across the metal floor of Megatronus’ quarters but somehow not of the lips pressed against the top of his helm. 

The gladiator’s own climax overtook him within the space of a few thrusts. Orion felt him go still, shuddering, his plating flaring out as he snarled in release. A pulse of electricity skipped from his systems to Orion’s, and something hot flooded Orion’s valve, triggering protocols he’d somehow never noticed. Fascinated, he tracked the transfluid up through specialised ducts leading from his valve to somewhere higher in his chassis, and the lightbulb clicked on in his processor—those were his gestational systems activating. 

_So that’s how it happens,_ he thought. _Transfluid brings them online._

His optics flickered back online, and he shook his helm, gazing up at Megatronus. The gladiator stared back down at him, one optic ridge quirked, his field flickering with quiet, sated amusement. 

Responses queued up in Orion’s vocaliser, but the first one that popped out was, “What?” 

“No regrets?” the gladiator asked. 

Orion blinked, and his expression melted into a smile. “None whatsoever.” 

*** 


End file.
